Incinerate

Chapter 3

Knox

“YOU DID what?” I ask Cohen angrily with clenched teeth, hoping I didn’t hear him correctly when he told me that some dude has volunteered to help cart my broken ass around town for the next few weeks.

Cohen holds his hands up in surrender, knowing that I’m going to be pissed at having to accept a handout. “Look, Knox, I can’t take any more time off from school. Finals at UT are in a couple of weeks and I have to get back to studying. If I don’t pass my Analytical Chemistry class, I can’t get into the Advanced Inorganic Chem class I need to take so I can graduate next year. If I don’t graduate, I can’t get into med school, and I really don’t want to put it off for another year.”

I use my good hand to bring the recliner into a sitting position, wincing as a sharp pain shoots up my spine. “It’s fine, Cohen. I know you have to get back to school, but I don’t need another babysitter.” His eyes narrow as he takes in my appearance, the back brace and arm cast indicating otherwise. “Seriously. I can see if Jace can help me out until you’re done with school, and then you can take back over since you’re planning on spending the summer here.”

“Yeah, well, that was the plan, but Jace hasn’t been cleared to drive yet, and Lexi’s only here every other weekend. There’s no other way around it, bro. Look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. The woman from the center said to expect Charlie tomorrow around ten a.m. I know you don’t have an appointment, but they want to do an initial meet and greet so you can figure out how this is going to go.”

A rush of unnatural anger flows through me and my brother can barely duck before the glass I was drinking from flies past his head, smashing against the wall into tiny pieces the same way the bones in my arm did in Afghanistan. The thought pisses me off even more, and it takes everything in me not to throw something else.

“God dammit! I’m fucking tired of feeling like an invalid. And now some weird dude is going to be taking care of me? What the fuck, man?” I growl at him, even though I know he’s doing the best he can. I just can’t help letting the restlessness get to me. I know I’ve been a huge asshole ever since I was released from the hospital. Hell, even Jace has had to tell me to chill the fuck out, and he usually just lets me go on my tirades. I don’t know if it’s a combination of being stuck here, the shock of seeing Megan again, and the imbalance I’m feeling from the pain meds, but the only emotion I feel anymore is anger, and I’m taking it out on anyone around me. It doesn’t help that I feel exhausted every damn minute of the day, and I feel weak, a feeling that doesn’t sit well with me no matter what state I’m in. Weakness is something I haven’t allowed myself to feel since I left Belle Meade, so the memories it brings about do nothing but inflame my anger.

“I sure as hell hope you’re nicer to whoever ends up showing up, a weird dude or not. Knox, I know it sucks being laid up in here with nothing but your thoughts, but you need to rein in the dick a little bit. I’m your brother and I love your ass, but don’t go pissing off a stranger who’s just trying to help,” Cohen says, sounding more like the older brother in this case. Before I can respond, he starts to grin. “Or maybe you just really need to get laid. That’d definitely relieve some tension and put you in a better mood.”

“Oh yeah, help me out to the car and we’ll see how many chicks in the bar are willing to go home with a guy in a back brace and arm cast. I might get a sympathetic handy, but I’m sure I won’t be going home with anyone,” I scoff, knowing that a casual hookup isn’t going to happen anytime soon. The thought is painful because I know firsthand how much it starts to fucking hurt when you go too long without getting off.

Cohen leaves the room and comes back a moment later with a small broom and dustpan. He begins cleaning up the broken glass, and I feel even more like an asshole now that he has to clean up after me. Pausing, he looks up at me with a wide smile, and I’m suddenly nervous as to what he’s thinking.

“Why the hell are you grinnin’ like the Chesire, Coh?” I ask, wondering what’s gotten into him.

“That’s actually a perfect idea. You need to get out of the house, and I’m bound to score points with the ladies if I’m carting my injured brother around. Let’s go out tonight,” he suggests, but then he wrinkles his nose when he takes in my appearance.

I haven’t looked in the mirror, but I can only imagine what I look like. It’s been weeks since I shaved, and I’ve been restricted to sponge bathing until my appointment next week—unless I have help in the shower. And as much as I love my brother, that’s a no-go. The doc said I’d have the brace off in four to six weeks, and it’s already been three since I was taken out of the coma, so I’m crossing my fingers that I can stop using it very soon.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I’d probably do more damage once the girls take one look at me. I’m not exactly the epitome of attractiveness right now.”

Without answering me, he walks over to the coffee table beside my recliner and picks up my phone. He goes through the numbers before clicking one and bringing it to his ear. I groan when someone picks up on the other end and he begins to speak.

“Hey, McAllister. I’m heading back to UT tomorrow and I’ve gotta get cranky-ass over here out of the house before he turns all Hulkinator on me and starts smashing things. Want to catch the game with us at The Lodge tonight?” he asks, mentioning one of the best local sports bars in the area. It’s twenty-one and up, so you don’t ever have to worry about offending some little kid and his mom when you’re swearing as an ump makes a bad call.

Cohen talks for a few more minutes, highlighting how much a pain in the ass I’ve been over the past few weeks, even though Jace already knows this. He hangs up the phone and takes one more look at me.

“Okay, dude, the doc said you can shower as long as you’re extremely cautious and have help. I know you took that to mean that you can’t, since refusing help is your forte, but since yours is a walk-in shower and you don’t have to lift your legs, I think you’ll be okay to do it just this once. I’m sure you’re going to get clearance to stop using the brace next week. One night won’t kill you.”

Knowing I’m not going to get Cohen or Jace to let me say no, I allow him to help me out of the chair and into the bathroom, where he turns on the hot water as I go to pop a pain pill just in case I tweak something. Stopping myself right before I swallow, I spit it out, knowing I shouldn’t mix the pills with alcohol, and I want a damn beer.

I feel like such a tool because my little brother has to help me do the easiest of tasks. He helps remove my brace and my t-shirt and covers my cast with a plastic bag, but I start to draw the line at that. Unfortunately, I can’t shake out of my shorts, so I sigh, and he looks at me with an amused expression on his face.

Turning around, I face my back towards him. I can hear him laugh as he walks up behind me and in one swift move pulls my shorts down to my feet.

“Relax, Knox. Just pretend it’s like high school and you just got pantsed in the locker room,” he tells me, reminding me of the juvenile pranks we used to pull.

“Whatever, man. Get the hell out of here so I can do this in peace.”

Leaving me alone, he exits the bathroom, saying he’ll be right down the hall if I need him. Shuffling into the shower, I close the glass door behind me. The warm spray feels amazing on my skin, and without even using soap, I’m already feeling refreshed. Sponge baths not performed by a sexy nurse just don’t cut it.

It’s not the easiest trying to open the shampoo bottle with one hand, so I directly squeeze the liquid onto my head, massaging it into the hair that’s grown too much since the accident. I make a mental note to take my electric razor to it, figuring that buzzing it will be the easiest way to maintain my appearance. Doing the same with the liquid body wash Lexi put in here for me, I spread it over my skin, careful not to bend or twist. I’m momentarily thankful that I have long arms and can clean my dick, but then a wave of depression washes over me when I feel how soft it is. Although I got a little wood from the nurse, the pain pills I’ve been on coupled with the pain I still feel have made it nearly impossible for me to get it up—and I’ve fucking tried. Not even Carrie Underwood could help get me hard enough, and that chick is fucking hot. She has legs for days, and I’m a total legs man. But nope, still soft. It fucking blows.

After rinsing off, I’m not ready to get out, and I spend an unknown amount of time letting the water flow over my body. Then I remember Cohen’s words. You need to get laid.

Sighing, I realize that it’s been over four months since I’ve been with a woman. I know that doesn’t seem like a long time, but in my world, it kind of is. I don’t date, and I haven’t since Megan took a scalpel to my chest and cut my heart out. So I fuck. And that’s it. No cuddling, no pillow talk, no candlelit dinners. The women know it, and I make sure to never let them get mixed up with feelings and shit. The last girl in my bed was more than happy to give a soldier a rousing American farewell, and I’m pretty sure she damn well saw fireworks that night. For me, it was another means of getting off without any emotional attachment.

Don’t get me wrong—it was good. But the more I think about it, the more tired I am of random lays. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start a profile on Match.com with visions of romantic picnics in the park in my future. I don’t fucking know what I want, but it’s not this anymore.

Shaking the thought out of my mind and knowing I’m not going to be able to jack off, I turn the water off and carefully get out of the shower, toweling off my upper half.

For the first time in what seems like weeks, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Grimacing, I study the yellow bruising that mars the right side of my face. Normally hating facial hair, I’m disgusted by the beard that’s grown in the weeks since I left the hospital. Immediately I find my razor and shaving cream, desperate for smooth skin again.

Moments later, I’m relieved as I spread moisturizer over my face. Grabbing my electric razor, I make quick work to buzz my hair, not wanting to deal with it grown out. Eventually, I’m satisfied with the guy looking back at me. Short hair and clean shaven. My eyes are dark, even though I feel like I’ve done nothing but sleep for the past three weeks. Due to the lack of appetite I’ve had from the pain medication, my normally strong jawline seems sunken in. I make a quick vow to wean myself off the pills and to get back into my protein shakes.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I head towards my bedroom, where I’m going to try to get dressed by myself. Standing in front of my dresser, I realize that there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to get my boxer briefs on without assistance. I’ve been going commando, which I normally hate to do, but it’s just easier wearing nothing but basketball shorts that I can easily slide down when I have to piss. Now that I need to put jeans on, I’d rather not catch my dick in the zipper.

“Cohen, get your ass back here!” I yell down the hall, cupping my junk so he doesn’t get an eyeful. Yeah, he’s my brother, but still.

When he saunters into my bedroom and sees me in my state of undress, he begins laughing at me. Scowling, I gesture to my boxers as I sit down on the bed, careful not to move my back.

“Dude, I know this is weird, but can you please just put them on my feet and slide them up enough so I can stand and pull them up the rest of the way without hurting my back?” I ask, still covering myself.

“Knox, we’re both grown adults. We have junk. I’m pretty sure I saw it plenty of times when Mom put us in the bath together when we were kids. What’s wrong? You afraid your little brother’s going to find out he has a bigger dick than you?” Cohen asks, cracking up at the thought.

I glare at him, and he grabs the fresh boxers, putting them on me and pulling them up to mid-thigh. He stands there staring at me, waiting for me to finish.

“Umm, a little privacy, Coh?” I ask, again feeling angry that I need this assistance.

He turns around, but not before saying, “You’re going to need help getting pants on, so chill out. I promise not to peek until you’re fully covered, but come on, man. I know all the guys in your unit have probably seen the goods, so I don’t get your modesty.”

He’s right, but in my weakened state, I don’t want anyone to see a single part of me. I lift my hips and bring my fabric over my ass to cover myself fully. Moments later, I’m dressed in dark-toned jeans, a fitted navy blue t-shirt, and a solid black ball cap that helps shadow the bruising on my face. I slip on flip-flops, not wanting to further have Cohen dress me by tying my shoes.

Looking in the mirror, I’m satisfied with my appearance and more than happy not to see the damn brace on my back. Yeah, I should have it on, but I’m not going to a damn bar wearing that thing. One night without it might actually improve my mood. I spray one spritz of my favorite cologne, Dolce & Gabanna’s Light Blue, before heading down the hallway.

I find Cohen and Jace sitting in the living room watching the Braves game. This must be the week that Lexi’s not visiting, because usually they’re glued to each other, kissing and hugging and doing all that annoying shit couples ‘in love’ do.

“Damn, dude, I wasn’t sure that pretty mug still existed under all that facial hair and the angry scowls,” Jace jokes, earning a glare.

“Oh yeah? Well, I barely recognize you without the one-hundred-pound blonde appendage you’ve seemed to acquire since we got back to the States,” I shoot back at him, feeling like an asshole the moment the words leave my mouth.

In true Jace form, he just laughs it off. I’m still skeptical about this chick, but I have to admit I’ve never seen him so happy. He shrugs off my response, calling me a jaded ass in the process.

I know he’s right, but I’ve had eleven years to harden my heart, so one love story isn’t going to soften it. I hope for Jace that she’s in it for the long haul, because I don’t think I can see him heartbroken over her again. The past few weeks she’s been visiting me with him, and when I look at her, I swear I can see a girl in love, but I saw that in Megan, too. I have to admit that there’s something different about Lexi, but I’m still reserving judgment.

Cohen helps Jace off the couch and hands him his crutches. We make our way out to the car, where my brother helps me get into the back seat, as the doctor advised us to keep me away from airbags. Within moments we’re on our way to the bar, the first time I’ve been out in weeks. I’m not looking forward to going out, but I’m craving a cold draft, so I’ll deal with Cohen’s hooking up if that’s what it takes to get one. Glancing out the window, I let the radio drown out any thoughts I have, wondering what the night will bring.

Charlie

APPARENTLY DANCING turned into ‘watch the Braves game with Lucy, Jenna, and Jenna’s boyfriend Brad.’ I’m actually okay with this turn of events since I don’t feel like bumping and grinding with strangers tonight. Absentmindedly, I’m sitting at the bar, twirling the straw in my Bloody Mary, watching the game on the television. To be honest, I couldn’t care less about baseball. I’m a football girl through and through, with Dad raising me as a Bama fan. The off-season is the worst time of the year, and I get bored watching baseball. Jenna and Brad are enthralled with the game, and Lucy’s off at a pool table watching a couple of cute guys play.

I wonder what the hell I’m doing here when the bar door opens and three sexy-as-sin men fill the entrance. Two of the guys are laughing as one leads the other on crutches to an open table right near the bar. They’re both attractive, the taller of the two with dark black hair cut short and just enough facial hair to look like he’s been ignoring his razor for a few days. His smile is killer, reaching all the way to his eyes as he laughs at something the shorter, cute blond guy says as he gestures to the other guy in the trio.

When he comes into view, the sight of him stops my breath. He’s gorgeous in a rugged, I-just-got-done-chopping-wood kind of way. His tall stature probably puts him at six foot two at least, and the way the tight t-shirt hugs a muscular frame has my mouth watering. I haven’t been this attracted to guy in…well, ever. It took Drew three times to ask me out before I finally said yes, but right now I’d take all my clothes off and dance on the bar if this guy wanted me to.

Down, girl. I shake the dirty thoughts of his wood out of my mind and continue to check him out shamelessly. My eyes are drawn to the cast on his left arm, and I notice his slow movements, indicating that he may be injured in other places. He definitely has the soldier look, freshly shaved face and buzzed hair. The thought that he’s a wounded warrior from Ft. Campbell crosses my mind, and I’m suddenly reconsidering Lucy’s rebound suggestion.

At this point I’m all but staring as he braces against the table to sit down. I notice the hard jawline of his face, his cheeks flexing as if in pain. The dark-haired guy places his arm on his shoulder, and the rugged man simply shakes his head and holds up a hand in a gesture that says ‘I’m fine.’ A moment later, his face transforms as he gives a heart-stopping smile to the waitress, showcasing dimples in both of his cheeks. Something about his features draws me in, and I have to make a conscious effort to stop looking at him before he realizes he has a stalker.

When I turn back to my drink, I suddenly feel lonely, even though Lucy wanted this to be a fun night out for me. Okay, she did invite me over there, but I declined. She said that she’d stay back with me, but I waved her off, telling her I’d be fine by myself. And here I am, sitting at the bar while Jenna and Brad are sucking face in the corner and she’s still off flirting with the pool players. Sighing, I order a beer and spend another twenty minutes or so playing around on my phone, getting more and more irritated at my friends. I’m almost ready to leave when I feel a presence next to me, and a masculine scent fills the air. It’s a mixture of wintery pine and cleanliness, and somehow I know it’s him.

Glancing up, I notice the sexy dimpled guy next to me trying to get the bartender’s attention, and I wonder why, since he had that waitress earlier. If I were her, I’d be making sure he was taken care of all night long. And yes, I mean in more ways than one.

Taking a deep breath, I decide to put myself out there. I don’t know if it’s the loneliness or the alcohol talking, but I’m ready to take the plunge after two months of feeling sorry for myself.

Reaching up, I tap him on the shoulder and he finally looks down at me. I smile up at him, and I’m entranced as I take in his features up close. The masculinity shows on his face, with strong cheekbones and a squared jaw. His nose is chiseled perfection, and I feel a pool of heat between my legs as I imagine him nuzzling his face against my neck, down my body, in between my legs. His lips are full, waiting, wanting, needing to be kissed, and it takes everything in me to stop from licking my own. He’s the antithesis of Drew, and that thought spurns a fire in my belly that I haven’t felt in a long time. His left arm, the one in a cast, is situated on the bar. I can see the vast span of his hand, his long fingers stretching in the bar light. Immediately, I imagine those fingers touching me, teasing me, and I have to shake my head to get my mind thinking straight.

He looks at me curiously, probably wondering why I touched him but can do nothing but stare. Before I can speak, the bartender shows up and he impatiently places his drink order. I’m still curious as to why he’s at the bar when I saw him talking to a waitress, but to be honest, I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s here next to me where I can study him up close and personal.

Once he gets his beer, he gingerly turns towards me, as if trying not to aggravate the unseen injury I’m now positive he has. I hold my hand out to his good one, and he shakes it lightly. My fingers tingle when his touch mine, and I shiver unexpectedly, a movement that causes his eyebrows to rise as he watches me over the top of his beer.

“Charlotte,” I tell him, not sure why I decide to use my given name, seeing as everyone’s called me Charlie since I was a baby. I don’t know why, but something about this guy oozes sex appeal, and Charlotte sounds so much more appealing, sophisticated, and sexy.

His hand lingers on mine as his long fingers graze my skin. Once his shot appears, he removes himself from my touch and takes it in one quick gulp. Looking down at me, he smirks, a cocky grin spreading over his face. I clench my thighs together as a wave of lust washes over me as his gaze moves up and down my body, pausing for a moment on the ample cleavage that my halter top is showcasing. Looking back up at my face, he clears his throat and shakes his head as he catches me licking my lips.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe another time, another place, Charlotte, but not tonight,” he whispers in a sexy, hushed tone before he turns and walks away from me.

Mortified and kind of in shock, I gape after him, watching his luscious backside saunter away from me as he rejoins his friends. He glances over at me and gives me a wink, and I want to crawl under the bar and pretend I don’t exist. Of course, the first time I attempt to flirt with a man he turns me down flat. Then again, I only told him my name and stared at him like he was a masterpiece in an art gallery, drooling over him and unable to make conversation. I’m not sure that qualifies as flirting.

Rejection sucks, so when the bartender comes around, I order two shots of tequila and another beer to wash the sting of embarrassment away. I’m going to be feeling like ass tomorrow, but I’d rather forget tonight, so I down both shots in quick succession, my brain swimming, wondering why this stranger is affecting me so intensely.

The rest of the night drags on as Lucy continues to flirt with the guys at the pool table, and I begin to wonder why she even bothered to invite me. This was supposed to be an anti-guy night, drinking cocktails and dancing the night away, but it was turning out to be anything but that. I’m on an island, having switched to beer, drinking alone and playing on my phone as I watch everyone else have fun. And the one time I tried to hit on a guy? It was a failure of epic proportions, shut down before I could even get started.

Signaling to the bartender for my check, I’m ready to leave when someone plops down in the barstool next to me. Not looking up from my captivating game of Words with Friends—Dad is currently kicking my ass—I hear a throat clear, causing me to finally tear my gaze away from my phone.

A dazzling smile greets me as my eyes meet the bright blue ones of the friend Rugged Man was sitting with. Yes, I’ve deemed him Rugged Man, because I never got his name, and I-Want-To-Take-Him-Home-And-Play-Naughty-Nurse-Until-He-Makes-Me-Come Man is just way too much of a mouthful. Come to think of it, I bet he’s a mouthful, too…

Blue Eyes clears his throat again, and I can feel the crimson blush creep onto my cheeks as I push the erotic thoughts out of my mind.

“Hey, Charlotte, right?” he asks, and I groan to myself, wondering if Rugged Man told his friend about my less than stellar flirting abilities.

Taking a drink of my beer, I swallow before answering. “Yes, I’m Charlotte. I’m assuming your nameless friend over there told you that,” I comment, tilting my beer towards the table where his two buddies are sitting.

He laughs and nods, and on any other day I’d probably be swooning at the sight of him. Unfortunately, I saw the other guy up close and personal first, and despite his rejection, I still want him more. Setting his crutches against the bar, he studies me before holding his hand out. I place mine in it, and his strong fingers close in around mine as we shake hands.

“Jace McAllister. Look, I couldn’t help but over hear your…non-conversation earlier, and I just wanted to tell you that it’s not you.”

Unable to contain my laughter, I nearly choke on the sip of beer I just took and it burns my nose when I snort. Real sexy, Charlie. Rubbing my hands over my face, I cannot believe what I’m hearing. “Oh, Jesus. Fucking custodians and now the brush-off? Are you seriously giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line for your friend? Please, God, tell me this is not happening.”

His brow furrows and he starts to protest, but my tirade continues. “Look, my life is pathetic enough. I’m sitting in the middle of a bar, playing Words with Friends with my dad while my best friend salivates over guys playing pool. I try, for the first time in two months, to talk to a guy and he’s not even interested in my name. And you know what? Yesterday, I’d be a huge melting pool of lust with one look in your mouthwateringly gorgeous blue eyes—bluer than I’ve ever seen to tell you the truth—but today? Nope. All I see is Rugged Man. So please, take your ‘it’s not you’ and shove it up his ass.”

I huff and down the rest of my drink, slightly mortified that I just went off like that but patting myself on the back at the same time. Jace is staring at me, eyes wide for just a moment before he busts out laughing, shaking his head at first me and then someone behind us. Turning around, I see Rugged Man scowling at both of us before turning to talk to the other guy sitting next to him. After glaring at him, I turn back around to Jace, who’s still chuckling.

“One, I’m not going anywhere near his ass, so you can forget that. Two, he didn’t send me over here to say anything, and I’m not here to hit on you. I swear. I’m happily taken. Here’s the thing. He’s not exactly in the best place right now, but he really doesn’t mean to be an asshole. He just comes across that way.”

I sigh, realizing I’m not surprised this one’s in a relationship. She must be one lucky lady. “Why are you telling me this? He wasn’t even really a jerk. He just…gave me the brush-off. It’s no big deal. Really. It’s fine. I don’t need an explanation.” Shooting him a confident smile, I pray he’s done with this line of conversation. It’s mortifying enough that I look so pathetic sitting by myself that he had to approach me, and I don’t want him thinking I need him to apologize for his friend.

He nods and positions his crutches so that he can get up from the stool. “I believe you. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that he has issues right now and any other time I know he’d be dying to ask you out. Maybe we’ll see you around, Charlotte?”

As much as I’d love to get to know these guys, I’m silently hoping I never have to see them again and that this night will become a very distant memory. Instead, I grin at him. “Sure. I’m sure we’ll run into each other sometime around town. Y’all have a good night.”

He gives me one last look before crutching back to his table. I watch him expertly maneuver across the bar, and I can’t help my take one last glance at Rugged Man. His eyes are watching me, and a cocky grin spreads across his face as he catches me checking him out. Before I can do anything, Lucy finally remembers that I’m here and she stands in front of me, blocking my view. She has the two pool players with her and she introduces them to me as Ben and Michael. They’re both attractive and friendly as we move to a high-top table and make easy conversation.

It becomes pretty apparent that Lucy’s wanting us to pair up, and as nice as this guy is, I can’t stop sneaking peeks at the object of my night’s affections. As the next two hours pass, I can feel his eyes watching me, and I swear I catch a scowl on his face when Michael’s hand grazes the small of my back when we get up to leave.

Right before exiting the bar, I take one last look back. His dark eyes pierce mine, momentarily paralyzing me in my spot. The cocky grin is gone, and all I see is lust, anger, and something else. The combination confuses me. His eyes graze down my body one last time, and I’m mesmerized as my legs begin to gravitate towards him. Before I can make it two steps, Lucy grabs my arm and leads me out of the bar, my eyes not leaving his until the door closes in my face